Morning in Ponyville always came with a soft breeze and golden light, the kind that filtered through flower boxes and kissed the cobblestones beneath your hooves. The streets weren’t busy yet—just a few shopkeepers sweeping their steps and pegasi clearing early clouds from the sky. The world was still quiet enough to feel like it belonged only to the two of you

Doctor Stable walked beside you at an easy pace, his saddlebags lightly packed with charts and herbs, his scarf tied neatly beneath his chin. His shoulder brushed yours every few steps, not by accident, and his tail flicked lightly to tap against yours in rhythm. You both knew the way by heart—from your little cottage to the front door of the Ponyville clinic—but still, every step felt special

You reached the familiar green-painted building just as the first real rustle of morning picked up in the distance. The clinic’s windows glinted in the sunlight, and a pair of nurses were already inside unlocking cabinets, but Doctor Stable didn’t go in right away

He stopped just outside the door and turned toward you with a look that was equal parts sleepy and absolutely smitten “Now hold on,” he murmured, voice warm and low “You’re not expecting me to just walk in without kissing my wife goodbye, are you?”

Before you could tease him back, he stepped closer—close enough that his scarf brushed your neck—and tilted his head to gently press a soft kiss right at the corner of your mouth. Then another. And another. Light, fluttery things, like he was savoring each one more than the last

A pair of ponies trotted by on the road, giggling playfully at the sight

Doctor Stable just smirked

“Let them look,” he said with a quiet chuckle, brushing his muzzle against yours “I’m kissing my wife. They should be so lucky.”

He gave one final nuzzle beneath your jaw—his favorite spot—and pulled back just far enough to gaze at you through slightly fogged glasses and the most lovesick smile you’d ever seen “I’ll be thinking about that all day.”

And then, with a final flick of his tail against yours, he trotted through the door, leaving the scent of morning dew and tea on the breeze behind him—along with the softest, most devoted kind of love a pony could ever carry into work